


Compassion Begets Caring

by Kanaynays



Category: King's Quest (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Sickfic, because graham should not have been so well off after everything that happened in chapter 2, it's honestly just bonding and fluffy friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 23:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5686480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanaynays/pseuds/Kanaynays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For someone who spends all his time worrying about others, Graham spares far too little concern for his own wellbeing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compassion Begets Caring

**Author's Note:**

> As someone who is completely new to the King's Quest series, I wasn't sure what to expect when I started playing it, even with all the glowing reviews episode one got- but I've absolutely fallen in love with this most recent game, and knew it was inevitable that I'd start writing fanfic for it- there's far too little of it in the archive!  
> Anyway, here's some "Graham should not have been able to run around for three days without food and very little water in such terrible conditions without consequence".

Graham could barely recall his trip into the underground. He remembered his capture and much of the journey down the river, but at some point between being dragged through narrow passageways and repeatedly bumping his head on a number of low-hanging stalactites he lost consciousness, and the rest was a blur until he was standing in the goblin's kingdom proper. If "kingdom" it could even be called. He had never asked the Merchant how he had gotten his wagon down there- he had been more preoccupied with finding money for his goods at the time- but now, perched precariously atop the wagon and clinging to the railing, head pounding with the first signs of sickness and stomach panging with hunger, he regretted not knowing how far they had to go.

He grimaced and bent forward, clutching his middle as it released another growl and glanced nervously to check that the Hobblepots, snoring quietly beside him, hadn't woken at the noise. Thankfully not. If they caught sight of him now as he was, he'd never hear the end of it, and there would go the last of their supply of sweetycakes. The Merchant had no provisions in his wagon meant for anyone but his goats which left them only with what little they'd cooked before leaving, and Graham had been refusing all of it, feeling it was better provided to those who needed it more. It had taken far too long to convince Amaya to eat anything herself and he didn't want her regretting taking the chance.

He'd be fine. He'd heard of people who had lasted _weeks_ without food. He'd only stopped eating just a few days ago, and it shouldn't take them too long to get back to Daventry. Hopefully. He'd be fine. As for his creeping illness, maybe he could defy logic and will it away by ignoring it long enough. it had never worked before, but who knew?

He groaned audibly and curled up a little more as the wagon gave a particularly intense jolt, then immediately slapped a hand over his mouth. Too late, it seemed, as Amaya leaned back from her position hanging on to the back of the wagon to peer up at him.

"You're not getting sick up there, are you, majesty?" she asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

"Ugh... No, I'm fine. Just- uh. Knocked my funny-bone with that last jump."

As soon as the words left his mouth there was a small explosion to his right and all three of the kidnapped guards burst out of an unusually large trunk. Graham shrieked, falling back and almost tumbling off the wagon if not for the lot of them grabbing his front all at once and pulling him back, breathing heavily and gritting his teeth against a sharp pain in his belly. Once again he marvelled at the old couple's sleeping prowess- they had been out for hours now with no sign of waking and if his screaming wasn't going to wake them he wasn't sure what would. Food, probably.

"Sorry, your majesty!" one of them- Guard Number 01, he identified- released him and carefully patted him down. "We heard the lady say you were feeling a bit ill and thought it may constitute a cry of distress."

"And responded accordingly," added Guard Number 02.

Still fighting to calm himself, Graham felt a rush of warmth towards the three of them. Their immediate response to what was clearly nothing serious was endearing, if unnecessary. "It's fine," he assured them gently. "And _I'm_ fine. Like I said, I just knocked my funny-bone." He raised an eyebrow. "Why are you all in that trunk?"

"Well it's compact, innit?" replied Guard Number 76. Graham didn't have nearly that many men under his command just yet, but the lady had insisted that naming herself thus would make it seem as though he did. Anyone who knew Daventry knew it to be false, but he had met at least two separate nobles who had heard the number and seemed at least the tiniest bit impressed. Go figure.

"I mean- if it's not comfortable, you can-"

"It's hardly any more comfortable out there," Guard Number 02 pointed out. "It's all just luggage and villagers crammed into small spaces. Thank you kindly, your majesty, but with all due respect, we'd like to stay here."

Graham stopped himself from sighing with relief. It would be harder to hide his fatigue with the guards next to him, even if they were entertaining travel companions. He looked down to see Amaya still watching him and immediately averted his gaze.

"Well, whatever you want, I guess. If there's anything I can get you or if you want to come out, just let me know."

"Will do, milord!" they declared in unison. Then, in a swift movement, they folded themselves back into the trunk and slammed the lid down, the clasps miraculously clicking into place.

There was a moment of silence following their disappearance, then Amaya snorted.

"I don't envy you your job, _your majesty_. Must be tough having to deal with those fools every day. Just getting a work order together is enough of an ordeal, and that's before they start talking addendums."

"Aw, they're not so bad, he said, rubbing the lid of the trunk fondly. "I will admit it does take some getting used to, and I still have _hundreds_ \- thousands? I have so many addendums to memorise. But I'm glad they're with me."

"Mm."

"And- um-" Graham shifted, curling himself back into his earlier position. "If it's not too much trouble- could you, maybe, just- just call me Graham? The whole... 'your majesty' thing... Believe me, I'm honoured, but all the time is... a bit much."

She squinted at him. "Is that an order from the king?"

He hesitated. "A request," he said quietly, "from a friend."

His tone shifted at the end, making it sound more like a question than an answer. There was a time when he wouldn't have hesitated to name her as a close friend of his, but it had been so long since he'd visited her that he couldn't help but be unsure. He had sincerely tried to keep in touch with the people of Daventry as much as possible since becoming a knight, but being a king left far less time for it than he liked. He hoped he'd be able to do something about that.

He was grateful when her eyes softened, and downright ecstatic when she smiled. "Can do, Graham," she said softly.

He beamed at her, then shifted forward so that his legs were dangling off the edge, gently tapping against the wood as they swayed.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited more," he said as sincerely as he could- which was apparently a lot, as she immediately frowned at him.

"Ugh, don't give me that sad puppy look, kid, you don't need to apologise for that. I know being king's a tough job. And I know it's more than just putting up with imbeciles. And _don't_ use that tone with me- if I'm your friend, I'm your friend. Full-stop, no question marks. Understood?"

He nodded hastily. "Understood."

"Good." She cast a quick glance through the window of the wagon. "That goes for the rest of them too, you know. You being too good for the likes of Daventry is just about the one thing we all agree on without arguing about it for five hours."

He didn't need to see the look of exasperation she was giving him to know he was blushing profusely- it never affected him any less hearing that he was wanted, and even more so now that he was over-tired and still feeling emotional after his speech to the goblin king.

He tried not to sound too sappy when he thanked her- and failed, judging by the look on her face- and spoke long with her until fatigue overcame him and he passed out.

 

* * *

 

 

Graham noticed three things in succession upon waking. Firstly, that they were outside. Secondly, that he was an idiot, and just because the light shining through his closed lids seemed brighter than usual did not mean that they were no longer underground. And lastly, he was _definitely_ sick.

Emitting a quiet noise of despair, Graham reached up with one arm to cover his eyes. He felt awful. His stomach hurt, his head was still aching, his throat was sore and if he hadn't felt queasy before, he certainly did now. Removing his arm, he fought every instinct telling him to stay down and lifted himself into a sitting position, checking on the Hobblepots- _still_ asleep- and leaning precariously over the edge to check on Amaya, who had somehow managed to nod off in the same position she'd been in when she was awake. At least she hadn't fallen.

Making his way to the opposite end of the wagon he was relieved to see that the Merchant was both awake and actually focusing on the road- a rare occurence he was usually loath to disrupt.

Graham took a deep breath and knelt beside him. "Mr. Merchant?" he asked softly.

The Merchant made an enquiring noise and glanced back up at him, his expression immediately brightening. "Boy! Good to see ya- and good to see you're still up here, too! Most people woulda fallen off by now, good job, sonny!"

"Uh. Thanks?" He cleared his sore throat and rubbed his temples, closing his eyes. "Look- do you know how much longer it's going to be until we get back to Daventry?"

"Almost there, boyo! Just a couple a' hours and we'll have you back at your precious fancycastle."

"And the others?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get 'em back to the village, don't you worry your pretty little crown about it." He cast an odd glance in Graham's direction. "Speaking of, you don't look too good, kiddo. Shame you already gave the last of my cure-all to the broad, you look like you could use a bottle or two of it yourself."

"Really?" Graham groaned. "Ugh."

"I think the fat one's got a couple o' them sweetycakes left he can hand over if he's feeling generous-"

"Oh- no, that's alrigh-"

"Hey, BAKER!"

Graham cradled his head and flinched at the shout, sighing when he heard Wente open the small window below. "What can I do for you, Merchant?" he called in a pleasant voice. His disposition had improved drastically since leaving the goblins' lair.

"Ya got any o' them sweetycakes left down there?"

"Ah, apologies my good man, but I've just given the last one to Bramble here. Got to keep her strength up, you know." Despite the necessity he sounded truly regretful, and Graham immediately moved to the edge to look down at him.

"It's fine!" he quickly assured him, his head swimming from the rushed movement. "It's okay, just wondering- we're almost there anyway, so..."

"Are we? Excellent!" Wente sighed happily. "I don't think the thought of home has ever been more comforting, to be perfectly honest!"

Graham nodded in agreement, then stopped, wincing slightly. His headache was getting worse by the minute, and having to raise his voice to speak to Wente wasn't helping his throat. The sooner they arrived, the better.

Luckily, Wente mistook his wince for a reaction to the bump in the road and retreated back into the wagon. A conversation would have been nice, but the caves were still far too narrow to risk leaning out of the window constantly. Instead, Graham retrieved his adventurer's hat and shoved it securely upon his head, leaning back against the railing and closing his eyes. Perhaps he could follow the Hobblepots' example and catch a little more sleep before they arrived.

 

* * *

 

 

Graham wasn't sure how much time had passed between falling asleep and being gently shaken awake, but judging by the looks of glee on the Hobblepots' faces- and the colourful foliage in the background- they had _finally_ made it outside. Gasping in delight, Graham scrambled to his knees and leaned against the railing, relishing the feeling of the cool wind and rain against his skin. Both his head and his muscles were screaming for him to lie back down, but the sight of Daventry growing ever closer in the distance was too captivating to ignore.

The sound of quiet snickering reminded him of the old potion makers' presence and he spun back around, the edges of his vision going dark for a split-second before adjusting. Beaming, he hoped he could pass off his wobbliness as excitement.

"Thanks for waking me up! I would've been pretty upset if I'd missed this."

They snickered again. "We know," Muriel said.

"Some things never change, do they? King Boy," Chester added with a grin.

He laughed, and was proud to say that he didn't even flinch when the guards popped out of their trunk again, spilling over one another in their haste to get their own look at the castle over the treetops.

"Almost there!" exclaimed Guard Number 76 excitedly.

The other two sighed in relief. "It's about time," Guard Number 01 said, and Number 02 nodded in fierce agreement.

"I'm gunna eat _so much_ when we get back!"

"You idiot!" Number 01 lightly slapped Number 76. "The King's the one who got us all out of there, we have to make sure _he's_ taken care of first!"

Guard Number 76 looked just about as abashed as one could wearing a full suit of armour. "Sorry, your majesty. I wasn't thinkin'."

"Oh- no, it's fine!" Graham said quickly. "Honestly, the only thing I'm doing when I get back is taking a bath. You three should get some food and a proper rest- maybe just set something aside for when I get out?"

"Ooh! Ooh! I'll run ahead and let everyone know yer back, sire!" With those words, Guard Number 76 saluted and vaulted over the side of the wagon before anyone could stop her. There was a wet thud on the ground below, followed by scuffling and squelching noises and by the time Graham had leaned over to check on her she was already ahead of the wagon and speedily making her way onwards.

Chester whistled over Graham's shoulder. "She's a speedy one that girl, isn't she?"

"I think Whisper's been training her," Graham said with a smile. He gave a small cough and cleared his throat, fighting a sudden stickiness. "He's been at the castle a lot, actually- looking over the new recruits and 'passing on his wisdom'."

"Mm."

Graham felt a hand on his shoulder and he was pulled around to the sight of Muriel's face very close to his own. She placed her palm on his forehead and made a small ' _tsk_ ' noise, pulling back and regarding him with disapproval.

"Sick," she huffed. "I _knew_ we should have made more of that cure-all."

Graham's face fell. "I'm _fine_ ," he insisted, clenching his fists to stop his fingers from shaking. "Really- it's probably just exhaustion. We're almost back, I'll just rest up a bit and I'll be all better."

"Muriel and I have seen our fair share of illnesses over the years, boy," Chester said, raising an eyebrow. "People much stronger and bigger than you have died for a lot less than what they would call 'fine'."

Graham felt a chill which had nothing to do with the weather and swallowed, holding back the cough tickling the back of his throat. "Okay, so maybe I've got a cold. But that's it, _really_. You don't need to worry about me."

"Oh yes we do!" Muriel sounded incredulous. "You're the first good thing that's happened to this place since Chester and I moved in, and that was _ages_ ago. We can't let you get killed off _that_ easily."

Graham was silent at that, filled with warm gratitude towards the old couple. They were never as openly kind to him as Wente, but like Amaya, they were always looking out for him in their own way. He was struck with a sudden urge to tell them everything- about everything from how terrible his headache was to how much he'd been struggling in his kingship, but he hesitated, and before anything else could be said the wagon had already stopped.

The three of them turned in surprise at the sight of the castle to their left, gleaming in the rain and more inviting than Graham had ever seen it. The moat monster was out of sight and the guards standing past the gate were tripping over themselves in their haste to reach the wagon.

"Graham!" they shouted, breathless with joy. "King Graham! You're back!"

He was treated to one last concerned glance from the Hobblepots before they were upon him, gently helping him down from the wagon and hounding him with as many questions as they could fit in each breath. He recognised them then as Kyle and Larry, for once not riding atop one another, and was suddenly very aware of how much he was leaning into their combined grip.

Steeling himself, Graham straightened, taking a deep breath, and smiled. "It's good to be back," he said sincerely, wrapping his cape around himself and inwardly thanking the fact that his cap shielded his face from the rain. Crowns really weren't much good for anything at all.

Both of the guards sagged in relief. "It's good to have you back, Graham," Kyle said gently.

Larry placed his hand on Graham's shoulder, leaning in close. "The kingdom's been a bit of a mess without you- the guards who weren't in a search party have spent their time cleaning and doing maintenance. The castle's never looked better, at least."

"Guard Number 76 came running a while ago with instructions- a bath's been prepared for you, as well as food enough for you and the kidnapped guards." He looked up at Guards 01 and 02, standing just over Graham's shoulder, and nodded in acknowledgement. The two nodded in return and began the trek to the castle, leaving the three behind.

Graham watched them go, absently rubbing his temple. He thanked Kyle and Larry for coming to meet him and bid them wait for him at the castle before saying a quick farewell to his companions. He had the distinct feeling the Hobblepots weren't done chastising him for not being more open to them about his illness, but the rain was still pouring and Graham was freezing and clearly wanted nothing more than to get to the castle as quickly as possible, so they let him be with nothing more than a hug and a stern glare. He did his best to walk confidently until the wagon was out of sight but the instant he could no longer see it he let out a shuddering breath and stooped over, resting his hands on his knees.

"Come on, Graham," he whispered hoarsely to himself. "Almost home."

His breathing was laboured and ragged and his muscles were aching, but Graham pushed on, pulling his cape tighter around himself and coughing into his shoulder. He wasn't sure how long it took him, but by the time Kyle and Larry came back to check on him a quick glance over his shoulder told him he hadn't even made it halfway.

There wasn't any point in hiding it now. Placing faith in his friends' reflexes he pitched forward into their combined grip and was quickly gathered into their arms. He felt a calloused palm pressed to his forehead and heard the two of them both emit sounds of worry before he was cradled against Kyle's chest, the two whispering to each other rapidly before Larry took off at a sprint to the castle gates, returning with Guard Number 13 and an umbrella in tow.

Graham sighed, pressing himself closer to Kyle's cool armour. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I hoped it'd get better."

"What, on it's own?" Kyle asked incredulously. "You _have_ been sick before haven't you Graham?"

"Yeah..."

He grimaced when his stomach gave a particularly painful lurch and curled in on himself as much as he could in Kyle's grip.

"Bath, then food," Larry said from somewhere beside him. "Then bed."

We put lots of bubble mixture in the bath for you, sire!" Guard Number 13 proudly declared from behind them. "And the water's _really_ hot! Terrance- erm- Guard Number 08 _swears_ he burned 'imself on it!"

"Names are fine," Graham responded weakly. "And thank you, Roberta."

He could practically feel the excitement radiating from the burly woman and wished he were in better condition to appreciate it. Instead, he found himself nodding off in Kyle's arms, the steady rhythm of his steps lulling him to sleep.


End file.
